


Building Up

by ErrantPelican



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time, Foot Jobs, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-12-30 15:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12111459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErrantPelican/pseuds/ErrantPelican
Summary: Victor, whether intentionally or not, has been Yuuri's first in so many things through the years.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had planned for this fic to be a oneshot, but the sections just kept getting longer and longer until it finally reached a point that I could no longer deny that chapters would make more sense. That being said, I do have all but the final chapter written, so I plan to post once a week for at least the first five. If everything works the way I want it, I'll have finished the sixth (and final) chapter on time, but I am extremely busy basically all the time so I can't make any promises, other than that it will eventually be written+posted (I have it half done ok it's just a question of finishing it. I edit much faster than I write).
> 
> Anyway. Another reason I split this into chapters is because in my drafts, I ended up writing fairly extensive author's notes for each section, which I wanted to include. They'll be at the end of each chapter, but usually will be unnecessary to read if you don't want to. They're just some insight on my thoughts while writing certain portions.
> 
> I'll be adding new tags for each chapter as I post, so look out for those!
> 
> This is my first foray into writing for Yuri on Ice, and I hope I did it justice. I know it is just an anime, but it's an anime that brought me joy in a time when I was really struggling, so it will always hold a special place in my heart.
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned for this fic to be a oneshot, but the sections just kept getting longer and longer until it finally reached a point that I could no longer deny that chapters would make more sense. That being said, I do have all but the final chapter written, so I plan to post once a week for at least the first five. If everything works the way I want it, I'll have finished the sixth (and final) chapter on time, but I am extremely busy basically all the time so I can't make any promises, other than that it will eventually be written+posted (I have it half done ok it's just a question of finishing it. I edit much faster than I write).
> 
> Anyway. Another reason I split this into chapters is because in my drafts, I ended up writing fairly extensive author's notes for each section, which I wanted to include. They'll be at the end of each chapter, but usually will be unnecessary to read if you don't want to. They're just some insight on my thoughts while writing certain portions.
> 
> I'll be adding new tags for each chapter as I post, so look out for those!
> 
> This is my first foray into writing for Yuri on Ice, and I hope I did it justice. I know it is just an anime, but it's an anime that brought me joy in a time when I was really struggling, so it will always hold a special place in my heart.
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy!

The first time it happens, Yuuri is sixteen. In hindsight, he has to wonder why it didn’t happen earlier, but he doesn’t dwell. Nothing would’ve changed if it had happened earlier, and maybe, if it ever comes up, it’ll be less embarrassing to admit that everything didn’t _truly_ start until he was sixteen.

If Yuuri had to pinpoint a reason, he’d have to blame it on the poster: A gift from Yuuko, something given to Yuuri entirely out of the blue, which had enamored Yuuri so immediately that he could even pretend he hadn’t noticed Takeshi snickering over his reaction.

Victor Nikiforov had cut his hair mere weeks ago, and already a poster had been released of him wearing his most recent free skate costume, his hair flopping artfully over his left eye. A hint of a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, and Yuuri could _swear_ there was a teasing sparkle in Victor’s visible eye. He hadn’t mentioned the poster to Yuuko or Takeshi, but there had been no missing him mooning over magazine articles that prominently featured pictures of Victor’s new hairstyle for the past month.

“Yuuko, it’s not even my birthday! This is too much,” Yuuri breathed, though he was unable to tear his eyes away from the poster as he spoke.

“The expression on your face right now is worth twice of whatever she paid for that,” Takeshi said, slinging an arm over Yuuko’s shoulders.

“He’s right, Yuuri. No one could love Victor as much as you, and I want you to have this.”

“You love Victor, too.”

“It’s a gift for _you_. I hope you like it.” And with that, Yuuko and Takeshi waved their good byes, leaving Yuuri to stare in awe at the glossy, near-life-sized face of Victor Nikiforov.

\---

“What’s that?” his mother asked when he arrived home for the evening.

Yuuri wasted no time in unrolling the poster, wanting nothing more than to show it off regardless of how little his mother understood about both skating and Victor Nikiforov.

“Very nice. Go put that in your room, then come down and help with dinner.”

\---

It took some time and effort moving several smaller posters to another wall, but having Victor looking down on him from right next to his bed was well worth it. Yuuri had had nothing against Victor’s old hairstyle—long hair had suited his gentle features for years, but it was impossible to miss how adulthood had sharpened the line of Victor’s jaw, hardened those shining eyes ever-so-slightly, thinned out his rosebud lips. The new style was mysterious, stylish, _fitting_ , and Yuuri was entranced.

“Don’t stay up too late.” Yuuri jumped and turned to face his mother, wide-eyed. “You’ll have plenty of time to stare at that tomorrow.”

Yuuri’s face flushed, but he nodded in agreement and bade his mother good night before she gently shut his door, soft footsteps fading down the hallway. He had practice again tomorrow, first with Minako at the studio and then with Yuuko at the rink. His mother had not been wrong when she told him he needed to get to sleep.

He crawled right into bed, but in the soft glow of the moonlight from his window, he could still see the poster. Victor smiling at him, expression cheerful and, dare he say, mischievous. Yuuri was used to falling asleep every night surrounded by pictures of Victor Nikiforov, but for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of this one.

His eyelids were heavy, but his brain was whirring, too busy to allow him rest. His skin felt hot and tingly, as if for every moment Yuuri spent looking at his new poster, Victor Nikiforov was looking right back at him. No matter how much Yuuri tossed and turned, he couldn’t shake the heat trembling through his belly. Finally, deciding he surely wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight if he kept ignoring the arousal licking through him, Yuuri flopped onto his back with a huff. Throwing his arms above his head in defeat, he shot a cursory look at his bedroom door to make sure it was still shut tight.

It was late and his parents were likely in bed on the other side of the house, but Mari’s room was close, and the last thing Yuuri wanted was his older sister coming to investigate any strange noises.

With the confirmation that his door was still closed, Yuuri slipped a hand to the front of his shorts, applying the slightest pressure. He didn’t masturbate often, usually too worn out from a combination of school, practice, and helping his family run the inn, but when he did have the energy to indulge himself, he liked to drag the process out.

And so it was with a gentle hand that Yuuri pushed down his shorts and grasped his cock, stroking slowly, adding slight pressure with each upstroke. With his other hand, he dragged gentle fingertips up his waist and stomach, shoving his shirt up as he went.

He pinched his nipple and gasped sharply at the feeling. And oh, that might’ve been too loud. It was near painful to stop stroking himself now, but Mari might’ve heard that. He needed to wait.

One minute turned into two and he hadn’t heard Mari’s door open, hadn’t heard any footsteps, and even in his worry his cock hadn’t softened at all. It was still standing at attention, dark red and dripping, and it didn’t take him long to get his brain back to the same desperate state.

He kept his strokes long and languid for as long as he could, slowing down and lightening his grip whenever he felt like it was getting to be too much, that he was reaching his end just a bit too quickly, but it had been weeks since he’d pleasured himself like this, and it felt _to_ _o good_.

Soon, quick puffs of breath were escaping his lips, eyes squeezed shut as he varied stroke speed, unable to keep himself from moving his hand faster only to force himself to slow back down. He bit his bottom lip to hold back a breathy moan, swiping a thumb over the head of his cock and bending a knee, planting his foot firmly on the bed and pushing his hips up toward his hand.

He didn’t consciously make the decision to open his eyes. At least, that’s what he would assure himself the next morning when he woke up to a sticky mess on his hand and the horrifying, guilty realization that it had been _Victor_ that had pushed him over the tipping point.

Regardless of whether it was truly his decision or not though, there was no question that Yuuri cracked his eyes open, no question that he turned his head until he could see his new poster looming over him, that beautiful face and that gorgeous hair and that amazing smile, just barely visible in the dim light. And there was absolutely no question that the moment he locked eyes with that poster—a picture of his _idol_ staring down at him as he smeared precum over his own cock—Yuuri came with a groan, eyes fluttering shut as his hips jerked wildly, riding out his orgasm as his mind stuttered to a stop, unable to think of anything but Victor. He gave himself a few last strokes before flopping his eyes to his sides and heaving a breath.

Once the pleasure had faded to only the occasional shiver, Yuuri rolled onto his side, back facing the poster, and drifted off to sleep. He'd leave any worries and embarrassment to ruminate on in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this first chapter is very short, but the next one basically doubles in length and they only get longer from there lol.
> 
> (Important sidenote: I tried my darnedest (meaning I did, like, two google searches) to find out the age at which Victor cut his hair. I could not find it, so I decided to arbitrarily stick it at age twenty-one because, surprise, it fit my plot. If anyone can find actual proof that I am wrong, please link me and I will change the ages accordingly if I’m able to do so without messing up the fic too terribly and/or making Yuuri too young.)
> 
> (Also did the same level of research to try to find out when Yuuri left Japan, and also couldn’t find that so? I assumed he’d still be in high school in Hasetsu at age sixteen and if he’s not then whoops guess this is an AU.)
> 
> I appreciate all comments and kudos, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I should have the next one up hopefully by next week Sunday. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised I would have this up on Sunday, and gosh darn it, it may be 10pm but it is STILL SUNDAY.
> 
> Anyway, here's my take on the night of the banquet.

There's one time that no one truly knows about. Yuuri was alone, no one there to witness it, and he himself had his memory scrubbed by the after-effects of alcohol. He’d been so groggy and upset that he hadn’t thought anything of the messy hotel sheets or the fact that his palms were covered in a combination of sticky white and smeared, inky black, simply cleaning himself up and packing his things before moping his way downstairs to meet his coach.

There hadn’t been a single moment for him to look back on the night before and so much as _try_ to remember drinking all that champagne, to remember not only speaking to, but dancing with, _hugging_ his idol, to remember said idol walking him to his hotel room, a steadying arm around Yuuri’s waist.

Yuuri had unlocked the door when they’d arrived, thrown an arm around Victor’s neck (and maybe slapped him in the face while he was at it, but it was an _accident_ , Yuuri couldn’t possibly be blamed for his lack of coordination in that moment), and tried to pull him into the room behind him. Much soberer hands had reached back and unlatched Yuuri’s hold but didn’t let go of him before a string of numbers had been hastily scrawled on Yuuri’s palm.

“I don’t want to do something you might regret,” Victor said, still holding both of Yuuri’s hands, and were their fingers intertwined? Yuuri flexed his own fingers to be sure, and he _definitely_ felt something very much like soft, thin fingers that didn’t belong to him in the gaps between them.

“I’d never… ‘gret you,” Yuuri managed to slur, even as he felt his eyelids drooping and his body slumping toward Victor, his wobbly, tired legs giving up.

Victor’s laugh sounded like bells. Or a windchime. Or a vibraphone. Yuuri thought maybe it should sound more like skates scraping on the ice since that would fit Victor’s aesthetic so much better, but then that would be a bit of an odd laugh. On second thought, the melodic ring fit Victor so much more nicely. He could make ice sounds on the ice and bell sounds off the ice.

Yuuri’s intoxicated brain was whirring and Victor was still laughing, and Yuuri gave a chuckle as well though he was unsure what the joke was. It had to be funny if Victor was laughing. Victor was so perfect he would never laugh at something if it wasn’t funny. Yuuri couldn’t let him know how uncool he was for not getting the joke.

Before Yuuri had even realized he’d been moving, he was overcome by a wave of dizziness as he promptly found himself looking up at Victor Nikiforov from his own hotel bed.

“How’d my poster ge’ ta the hotel?” he mumbled around a yawn. “Whoa, did you see, the poster moved!”

“I’m afraid I’m the real thing, Yuuri Katsuki. Promise you’ll call?” The poster was getting smaller. And was it…talking?

“Posters can’t talk. I don’ think they have… phones either.”

“Good night, Yuuri.”

A click of the door, and Yuuri was left very much alone. Not even his poster had bothered to stay. He rolled onto his side with a frustrated sigh yanking his glasses off when they pressed uncomfortably into his nose. His body felt like it was burning from the inside out, his stomach full of a combination of fire and butterflies. All of him was aching, and he couldn’t believe he’d been so betrayed by a poster of Victor Nikiforov, of all things.

Well. His imagination would have to do. And it seemed to be more vivid than usual that night, full of whimsical pictures of dancing with Victor, of Victor directing his enchanting smile at _Yuuri_ , and Yuuri’s hips had started grinding against the mattress before he’d even realized it.

The heat was traveling up his spine, growing hotter and hotter, sparking brighter with every push of his hips. Moaning into a pillow, he brought his hand down to stroke himself, though was quickly frustrated to realize that his cock was refusing to fully harden.

“’M not _drunk_ ,” he complained to himself with a huff, even as he ground more frantically into the mattress. Pleasure and desperation continued to spark through his body, but he could tell it wasn’t _going_ anywhere, and with visions of Victor Nikiforov dancing through his mind’s eye, he was sure that if he wasn’t able to work himself to an orgasm, he would probably die.

His hips continued to move without any input from his brain, but an idea came to him quite suddenly. He’d researched, spent several, non-consecutive hours using the private browser on his laptop, but he hadn’t had a spare moment to try it, too afraid that Phichit would return without warning and catch Yuuri in an even more compromising position than usual. He didn’t have lube but maybe spit would be enough, and he was so desperate to come that his cock was dripping fluid despite still not being at full hardness.

Fingers were promptly shoved into Yuuri’s mouth, and he moved his tongue over them to coat them with saliva. It was nice, he thought, to imagine the fingers as something else, something more along the lines of a part of Victor Nikiforov (didn’t even matter which part, Yuuri though. Even Victor’s fingers--rather than Yuuri’s--would do), and he groaned around the digits with that realization.

_Victor, Victor._ Yuuri could still picture that face hovering over his bed. It had looked so calm, so _loving_. He couldn’t remember ever buying a poster with such a sweet expression, but maybe Yuuko got it for him as a surprise. Maybe she was here and she’d found out what room he was in and put it on the wall and then it just walked right out. Rude and mean and uncalled for. The _real_ Victor would _never_ do something like that!

Hoping his fingers were properly wet (and really not caring much if they weren’t), Yuuri lowered his hand to his backside, teasing his hole with a fingertip for just a few moments (realizing none too soon that the longer he teased, the dryer his fingers were becoming, and even in his inebriated state, he wasn’t too fond of the idea of having to re-wet them now) before pressing gently inside.

Strange, was his first thought, but not altogether unpleasant. He’d expected more pain, especially without the use of proper lube, but maybe the alcohol was taking the edge off more than he knew. Slowly, carefully, Yuuri kept going, wiggling his finger as he went, pushing the palm of his other hand roughly against the front of his underwear (and he didn’t remember removing his pants, _when had he removed his pants?_ )

He could see why lube might make this nicer. There was a slight tackiness to the movement where there probably should’ve been an easy slide if all was well, but Yuuri was not about to give up now, not while he still had a clear picture in his mind’s eye of Victor’s adoring face gazing down at him. Of Victor’s pale hands clutched in his own. Of Victor’s warm, muscled body held tight against Yuuri’s.

And _oh, that_ felt nice. But maybe just a liiiittle bit further…

Yuuri jolted, barking out a yelp as his vision flashed white for the shortest moment, and that was when he _got it_. That was the spot all the websites talked about, the spot that would convince him that it was worth all the awkward stretching and slight pain that came along with stuffing something up his own ass.

Snapshots of Victor flashed through his mind as he prodded that spot over and over, rubbing it mercilessly, his hips jumping with every touch. Yuuri yearned for something bigger—something wider, longer, something that could press against that tiny bump with more force, but even now as he drooled on his pillow, a sticky puddle of precum soaking his underwear, he knew that his other fingers were much too dry to risk using them. He would _really_ have to invest in some proper lube once he got home.

He needed _more_. He could feel an orgasm creeping nearer, his balls pulling closer to his body, but it just wasn’t _enough_. He needed…He needed _Victor_.

But that was all it took. Instead of the image of Victor smiling innocently over him, it changed quite suddenly into Victor leaning over him, panting and sweating and moaning “Yuuri, Yuuri,” as he thrust desperately into Yuuri, and with one final, sharp prod to his prostate, Yuuri came with a shout, shoving his free hand down the front of his underpants, needing to feel _something_ on his cock as his hips jerked reflexively with the force of his orgasm.

As suddenly as it had come though, his orgasm faded away, leaving him laying languidly on the bed, one hand trapped between his body and the bed and the other attached to a finger that was literally inside of him. Pulling that out with a pained sigh—at least he’d know to be more gentle with _that_ task next time—he rolled over and arched his back, stretching. His entire body felt like jello as he shucked off his dirty underwear, throwing the sheet over top of himself before promptly falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I learned in the process of writing this when Word blue-lined me that “soberer” is the proper term rather than “more sober” who woulda thunk it. I even googled it to make sure Word wasn’t just trying to make me look like a fool, and if it was, it had google on its side because there was agreement. Fun fact of the day.
> 
> On top of that, I also typed the phrase “can you come from prostate stimulation without an erection” into the google and didn’t even bother going on a private page first so if anyone ever uses my gmail account they’re possibly in for a surprise. Especially considering I do not have a prostate and am currently studying in a medical field and so I have no excuse not to know that about myself.
> 
> Also I realize that a lot of what is happening in this, especially in the beginning, is kind of written-between-the-lines stuff. If something is confusing or incredibly unclear, please let me know and I'll try to fix it. (I don't have a beta, so things that might make sense to me--the writer--could make absolutely no sense to anyone else and I am aware of that. It won't hurt my feelings, as long as you tell me nicely, lol.)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! <3 I will be back next week with chapter 3. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hello I know it's been two weeks since I last posted, but blame school. As in, I had three Very Important and Difficult tests last week. To make up for it, I am going to try to post chapter four sometime during the week rather than waiting until next Sunday, so that's a bonus I guess.
> 
> Although really, this chapter being put online at all is kind of a bonus, because I originally wasn't going to include it. Basically, I had wanted, as is stated in the fic summary, for this story as a whole to have a kind of 5+1 feel, but this chapter being included makes it a 6+1 lol. It took me a long time to officially decide on including it, but in the end, I thought the time jump between chapter 2 and what is going to be chapter 4 would've been too jarring, so this is here to split things up a bit.
> 
> The timeline here, because it's somewhat important: This chapter occurs a few days after Yuri Plisetsky arrives in Hasetsu. Not that it's important whatsoever that Yuri P is around, since he isn't even mentioned, but you know. I like knowing the timeline of things, lol, and that is a good reference.
> 
> Sorry again for the longer wait on this chapter! I hope it was worth it, lol. Enjoy! :)

There was so much touching. So, _so_ much touching. And the things he _said_ to Yuuri! Maybe Victor’s handle on English wasn’t quite as strong as Yuuri had thought, but then Victor had been traveling the world for over a decade. English would’ve been mighty important to learn and learn _well_.

So why then was _Victor Nikiforov_ asking to sleep with Yuuri (and having the actions to back it up)? Why was _Victor Nikiforov_ poking and prodding and saying things to Yuuri that simply weren’t true no matter if Yuuri wanted them to be or not? Yuuri, have eros? Who was Victor trying to fool?

It didn’t matter. Victor may have been wrong, but Yuuri would do anything to keep him in Hasetsu, and so even if Yuuri knew there wasn’t an erotic bone in his body, he had no choice but to fake it.

Sighing, Yuuri looked tiredly around his room. Bare walls stared right back at him, devoid of the many smiling, smoldering, and simpering faces of Victor. It seemed a bit pathetic for Yuuri to admit to missing the posters when he had the real thing just five steps down the hall, but he _did_ miss them. They had been calming, had given him hope and strength, had been _very_ nice to look at.

The most obvious difference between the posters and the man, of course, was the _touching_. As much as Yuuri enjoyed looking at his dozens of posters, they didn’t touch him. Victor touched. Victor got close and touched Yuuri’s chin and Yuuri’s lips and with that smooth voice of Victor’s, Yuuri was genuinely afraid he might combust. He could already feel blood rushing to his face as he recalled the events of earlier, the look in Victor’s eyes just after he’d demonstrated his On Love: Eros choreography, his assurance that even if no one knew Yuuri’s true eros, he still possessed it…

Licking his lips, Yuuri turned over onto his stomach. He had bid Victor good night half an hour ago since he was exhausted from training, but now, it didn’t seem to matter how tired he was—memories of Victor were swimming before his eyes, and he could swear he could feel a phantom pressure of a thumb pressing firmly on his lip.

The touching was torturous, but it wasn’t just the touching. It wasn’t just the odd, dare-he-say, _flirting_. No, it was the way Victor looked so joyful whenever he was with Makkachin, the way Victor tried his best to communicate with Yuuri’s family regardless of how rusty their English was, the way Victor said Yuuri’s _name_ , all drawled out and emphasized and sounding as if the word was always followed by an exclamation point.

Victor hadn’t been living in Hasetsu long, but it had been long enough for Yuuri to realize that Victor absolutely wasn’t what Yuuri had expected, and Yuuri wasn’t quite sure what to think of that yet.

Restlessness had overcome Yuuri as early as that morning, but he had been able to work off his energy through skating. Now though, he was stuck in his tiny room in a single bed with the man he’d been idolizing since he was a child downstairs in the bath. Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about everything _Victor_.

And he _was_ in the bath, wasn’t he, had been heading there when Yuuri had wished him a good night. Thoughts of Victor washing himself, wet and naked, body muscular and perfect, flooded through Yuuri. Memories of that body superimposed themselves over the memories of Victor leaning in close, of touching Yuuri’s face, of saying such seductive things in his deep voice, and Yuuri couldn’t hold back a whine.

Shoving his face into his pillow, he tried to think of something-- _anything_ \--else. It had been bad enough thinking about Victor in that way when he had just been Yuuri’s idol, forever unreachable. Now it was preposterous, absurd, absolutely _could not happen_. Yuuri would never be able to face Victor again with the knowledge that he masturbated to thoughts of _perfectly innocent actions_.

_But they’re not innocent,_ his mind fought.

_He’ll never know._

_Just do it._

What finally convinced him was logic. At least, that’s what Yuuri told himself. He needed to get a good night’s rest to be ready for practice tomorrow, and with how worked up he was, there was no way he’d be able to get to sleep anytime soon without doing something about it. Every shift against the mattress caused pressure to drag maddeningly across his cock. No matter what position he laid in, it was going to be uncomfortable and distracting until he got rid of the root of the problem.

Succumbing to a combination of frustration and desire, Yuuri rolled onto his back and trailed tickling fingers down his chest to the waistband of his shorts. If this was going to happen, Yuuri thought, might as well make it worthwhile.

Victor was likely to come up after his bath and knock on Yuuri’s door. He would just want to ask, yet again, if he could sleep in Yuuri’s room with him, but he’d be flushed from the heat of the bath, his skin damp and warm. His hair would still be wet, lacking its usual volume, and it’d be fluffy and tangled come morning if he slept without letting it dry.

But neither would be worried about that. Victor would just want to ask if he could sleep with Yuuri, but what would he do if he walked in on Yuuri like this: Yuuri, fingers wrapped loosely around his cock, gasping a quiet groan with every movement?

In the moment, Yuuri pulled his shorts off, leaving him in nothing but a t-shirt. Kicking aside his blankets, he spread his legs, one foot flopping off the side of the bed as the other pressed against the wall.

Victor probably wouldn’t even knock on the door. He’d just push it open, eyes shut and mouth pulled up in a wide smile, calling “Yuuri!” just as the door moved out of the way and Victor was treated with an eyeful of Yuuri very purposefully touching himself. Maybe Yuuri’s eros would come out then. Maybe Yuuri would be brave enough to invite Victor to stay with him, extend permission for Victor to share his room for just one night.

Or maybe there’d be no need for words. Surely Yuuri’s eyes could express his need for Victor without him so much as saying a thing. Victor would come over and grab Yuuri’s wrist, pull it away from Yuuri’s cock and Yuuri would whine, plead, be _desperate_ for the return of friction, but Victor would just hush him and reach down himself.

Yuuri bit his lip as his palm circled the head of his cock. He rubbed just under the head, imagining that instead of his own familiar touch, it was Victor’s bath-wrinkled digit. Victor would be firm but still gentle, Yuuri decided. He’d probably laugh, maybe make a joke about the situation, though Yuuri was too far gone to come up with some clever line for Victor to spout.

Yuuri was sure that if it was truly Victor’s hand wrapped around him he would’ve come by now, but the touch was too normal, too obvious that it did not belong to Victor, and no matter how many times he pressed his thumb against that one, blissful spot near the head of his cock that made stars burst in his vision, he could not seem to get himself over the edge. Squirming in desperation, drool pooling on the pillow below him, Yuuri kept moving his hand, squeezing and pulling and rubbing, and it only took a few more minutes before tears were wetting his pillow as well. He was _right there_ , his climax _just out of reach_ , but even as he pictured Victor’s face, Victor’s body, Victor’s _hands touching him_ , he couldn’t get there. It wasn’t enough.

Yuuri sobbed as he thrust his hips upwards, and _oh_. It hadn’t been enough, but the _movement_ …That had somehow pushed past the pleasure-pain of overstimulation, and maybe this fantasy could serve him yet. He’d just need to change the rules.

Maybe Victor would get tired of pleasuring Yuuri. Surely he wouldn’t want to spend his entire night doing nothing but touching Yuuri, making Yuuri feel good. It was only fair that Victor got an orgasm out of it as well, and as he seemed so sure Yuuri had eros buried deep down inside, Yuuri’d do his best to bring it out.

Yuuri flipped onto his stomach, pushing imaginary-Victor onto his back underneath him, and with no work at all, Victor was suddenly divested of his clothes. In what was, to Yuuri’s hormone-driven mind, a moment of brilliance, he pushed his pillow down beneath his hips, thrusting forward into it, and okay, it didn’t feel _exactly_ like Victor would (or even anything close. Yuuri knew very well what skin felt like, and it was not a pillowcase), but at least now he was at a better angle.

Once he took that first thrust forward, there was no stopping the desperate movements of his hips or the moans falling from his lips. And _yes_ , now he was _getting somewhere_. The feeling of pressure on his cock had slipped back into full pleasure instead of partly pain. Yuuri’s legs were trembling as he tightened his muscles to keep his knees from slipping on the sheets. He rested the weight of his upper body on one elbow while he used his opposite hand to hold the pillow in place, keeping the angle _perfect_.

Pleasure kept coming in waves, traveling from its center in his hips all the way out to the tips of his fingers and toes. His hair was soaked with sweat and tears were still rolling down his cheeks.

He was _almost there_. He could practically _taste_ his orgasm, it was so close. Picturing Victor’s face, picturing it as if Victor were there with him, just as red and sweaty and desperate, Yuuri gave a final, violent thrust into the pillow below him before groaning out a word that was almost certainly a muddled “Victor!” as he came. His legs gave out almost the moment his hips stopped jerking, and he fell forward, backside propped awkwardly up in the air.

He was breathing heavily, eyes cracked open but unseeing as he slowly came back to himself. His legs and arms were trembling, hips twitching every so often, even though his cock had gone soft. In hindsight, maybe using the pillow hadn’t been his brightest idea…He only had the one, so now he’d have to decide between leaving his room to fetch a new pillowcase, or sleeping on a bare pillow for a night.

Turns out the decision didn’t need to be made—it wasn’t long before Yuuri’s eyelids refused to stay open any longer, and he drifted off to sleep just like that, too soon to hear the muffled footsteps walking away from his door and entering a room just down the hall.

The next day, Yuuri decided that the horrible pain in his spine was a perfect punishment for thinking of his coach so inappropriately. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so obligatory sorry for another masturbation chapter. That was actually the reason i originally was going to eliminate this from the fic--I thought three masturbation chapters was a bit much, but as I said in the beginning notes, the time jump would've been too weird without this chapter so here it is. I PROMISE this is the last one and that Victor will be present in person from here on out. 
> 
> I appreciate all kudos and comments, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slides in* hello friends I hope you are ready for a long chapter. 
> 
> When I finished writing this chapter was around the time I realized it'd be more reasonable to make this a chaptered story rather than a oneshot. And they only get longer from here. ;) 
> 
> This chapter begins immediately after the Cup of China.

Yuuri could barely stay on his feet, could barely keep his eyes open, could not have made it back to the room if it hadn’t been for Victor quite literally supporting him on the way there. Victor was soft and warm and so close and he’d been close ever since Yuuri had met him after his free skate. They hadn’t kissed again since that moment on the ice, but they hadn’t really had a chance to. The night had been long and busy and they hadn’t been left alone for even a moment.

(Not that they had been too alone when they’d kissed, but that was _different_ , Yuuri insisted to himself.)

Even if their lips hadn’t touched a second time, it didn’t mean that the rest of them wasn’t touching. There had barely been a single moment where Victor wasn’t holding his hand, had an arm slung around his shoulders or waist, had an ankle wrapped around his if they happened to be sitting. And now Victor was all but carrying Yuuri back to their shared hotel room, and Yuuri knew that they needed to talk. It was unclear what they were to Yuuri, and that needed to be hashed out as soon as possible, but Yuuri was fairly sure that he had just fallen asleep on Victor’s shoulder for a few seconds during that elevator ride, so maybe it’d need to wait until morning.

“Do you think you can shower without falling asleep, or should I help?”

_That wasn’t meant to be flirty. It was just teasing. And possibly a genuine offer, but not a_ flirty _one._

“I…Umm…” _Very eloquent, Yuuri._

“Go wash up,” Victor said, smiling gently. “I’ll put clothes outside the door for when you’re finished.”

Yuuri didn’t need to be told twice. Shuffling off toward the bathroom, he was already pulling off his jacket, leaving it in a heap on the floor.

It took a good twenty minutes for him to finish his shower, considering he kept dozing off under the warm water. Once he had finished, he snaked his hand out the door to find that Victor had made good on his promise: A pile of soft clothes was easily within his reach.

Victor had been relaxing when Yuuri entered the main room, laying on his stomach on the bed while scrolling on his phone, but he perked up immediately upon seeing Yuuri and set his phone aside.

“Yuuri, I know you’re very tired, but there’s something I have to say.”

“Okay.” _Still very eloquent, Yuuri._

“I kissed you today, and—Yuuri, I want to be clear.”

He wanted to be clear, yet he was clearly struggling to find the right words. Normally Yuuri would be prompting him along and trying to help in whatever way he could, but his voice was frozen from exhaustion and anticipation.

He’d moved closer to Victor during the silence. He didn’t remember moving closer to Victor, but now he had his hands on the edge of the bed and his nose was less than a foot away from Victor’s and Yuuri had noticed so many times before how nice Victor’s eyes were, but they were even more so _up close_ and Yuuri couldn’t stop himself from moving those last few inches and doing what he had been itching to ever since he’d stepped off the ice.

Victor’s lips were plump and warm, just as Yuuri remembered them. He had wondered, in the aftermath, if kissing Victor was really as magical as his memory made it out to be or if the magic of the moment itself had put a rose tint on the kiss. This confirmed that Yuuri’s memory was very much perfect.

Climbing onto Victor’s lap, Yuuri pushed his tongue into Victor’s mouth and met Victor’s own, savoring the feeling. It was _comfortable_ , Yuuri realized. Maybe after a proper night’s sleep his brain would catch up with the rest of him and be horrified by his forwardness, but now, all he wanted was _more_.

Hands pushed gently at his shoulders until cool air was all that was touching his lips, and Yuuri protested with a whine.

“Yuuri, you’re very tired, and I’m afraid you’re going to fall asleep on me before I talk to you.”

Yuuri yawned, only helping to make Victor’s point.

Victor still looked nervous. It was an odd look on him, Yuuri thought. Not very fitting. Confidence was Victor’s forte and with good reason. Victor wrapped one arm around Yuuri’s waist, holding him firmly in his lap while his other hand grabbed one of Yuuri’s own and squeezed.

Yuuri squeezed back before leaning forward and resting his cheek on Victor’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck and letting out a sigh. “Victor, I’m _tired_.”

“Yuuri, I really like you,” Victor blurted.

“Oh. That’s good.”

“Good,” Victor said, and he sounded _relieved_. As if he had believed there was any chance Yuuri wouldn’t be happy about this.

“I really like you, too,” Yuuri reassured him, pushing his nose further into the crook of Victor’s neck.

“You really are exhausted,” Victor said so quietly that Yuuri wondered if he was talking to himself.

Extracting himself from Yuuri took more time than it should have, mostly because any time Yuuri felt Victor try to move, he tightened his arms around Victor’s middle.

“Maybe I should tire you out more often if you get like this,” Victor laughed once he had finally untangled himself, Yuuri flopping pathetically onto the bed and rolling over so Victor would see his betrayed pout.

“Ach, don’t look like that. You need your rest.”

Victor pulled back the blankets, helping Yuuri lift himself off the bed and get underneath them.

“Sleep well.” Victor kissed Yuuri on the forehead, and if Yuuri’s arms didn’t feel heavy as lead, he would’ve reached up and demanded a kiss on the lips as well. As it was, he was already drifting into sleep even as Victor pulled away.

“G’night, Victor.”

\---

The next morning was a blur. A significantly better-rested Yuuri was woken by a gentle shake to his shoulder. Breakfast was bought and eaten at the airport, and somehow, Yuuri still managed to take a nap on the plane, head resting on Victor’s shoulder.

Yuuri was fairly sure that from the moment they left the hotel room, Victor’s hand had not left his own for more than a minute at a time.

Sure, they’d had to separate to go through security, and loading their luggage first into the car and then the plane’s storage compartments forced them apart, but it felt only natural that as soon as each of them had a free hand, they would be pressed together, fingers intertwined.

The look in Victor’s eyes was soft and fond whenever he met Yuuri’s gaze, but the look itself wasn’t unfamiliar. Yuuri had to wonder how he’d missed it all these months. He had to wonder if his own eyes portrayed something similar, enough that Victor would notice.

The gate was bustling once Yuuri and Victor deboarded the plane back in Japan, but there was a familiar face in the back of the crowd. Mari, much to Yuuri’s surprise, had come to meet them.

In the back of Mari’s car, Yuuri fell in and out of a light doze. He should try harder to stay awake, he thought to himself. He’d never be able to fall asleep that night if he kept napping every time he sat down, but the warmth of the car was heavy and Victor’s arm was pressed against Yuuri’s own. It was comfortable, nice, and lulled Yuuri into a calm that was difficult to break out of.

“Is my brother sleeping?” Mari murmured in halting English.

“Yes,” Victor replied, just as quietly.

“Don’t tell me you kept him up last night.”

“No, he slept through the night. I think traveling takes a lot out of him.”

“Victor. I love my brother.”

“Mmm, I love him too,” Victor sighed.

“He’s stubborn and doesn’t listen, but he’s good. If you hurt him, I won’t forgive you.”

“I would never hurt him,” Victor was quick to defend.

“You might not do it … umm …” Mari muttered to herself in Japanese for a moment, too quietly for Yuuri to make out. “Might not mean to do it.”

“I’m sorry, but I hope you’re wrong.”

“Me too. Yuuri cares for you. Talk to him. Don’t let him decide things without talking.”

“I understand. Thank you, Mari.”

“What are you thanking me for?” Mari grumbled, and Yuuri could feel Victor shaking beside him with silent mirth.

“For being a good sister.”

Mari huffed out a breath, and Yuuri had a hunch that if he were to open his eyes, he’d see a flush on her usually pale cheeks.

\---

The chilly air of Hasetsu was more successful in waking Yuuri up than anything else had that day, and with a yawn, Yuuri stretched his arms above his head. Mari had unloaded most of the luggage from the car and was already heading inside with a bag in each of her hands.

“It’s nice to be home,” Victor commented as he picked up the two remaining bags, leaving Yuuri with nothing to carry himself.

_He called Hasetsu home_ , Yuuri thought to himself, too surprised to say anything. He grabbed one of the bags from Victor if only so he could free up his coach’s hand to hold Yuuri’s own. There was a silent question in Victor’s eyes, and Yuuri answered it with a squeeze of his hand.

“My family will be happy for us.”

“Oh. I’m glad.” That’s all it took for Victor’s expression to relax and his hand to squeeze Yuuri’s back before leading the way into the inn.

\---

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Yuuri’s parents had indeed been happy for them, though Yuuri and Victor’s relationship wasn’t addressed outright. Yuuri hoped the acceptance had gotten across to Victor through the tight hug from Yuuri’s mother and the pat on the shoulder from his father. From the look of excitement in Victor’s eyes, he had realized that specific welcome had meant _something_.

The two of them had taken Makkachin on a long walk along the beach, Yuuri leaving Victor and Makkachin early so he could help his mother with dinner. Dinner itself was a quiet affair, and before he knew it, Yuuri and Victor were walking to their rooms after a soak in the bath.

Yuuri wasn’t sure exactly what he was expecting as far as sleeping arrangements that night. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure what the sleeping arrangements the _previous_ night had been, since he had fallen asleep before seeing if Victor had climbed into the other bed or joined him in his own, and Victor had been out of bed once Yuuri had woken that morning. Whatever he’d been expecting though, it certainly wasn’t for Victor to grab his hand outside Victor’s bedroom door, pull him in for a chaste kiss, before slipping through the door and shutting it firmly behind him.

Shocked, Yuuri stared at the closed door for a full ten seconds before finally getting ahold of himself and marching off to his own room. Well, it’s not as if Victor was obligated to share a bed with Yuuri now. It didn’t matter if kissing was apparently something that would be happening regularly, or if they’d barely been apart since yesterday, or if Yuuri’s left palm had consistently been a few degrees warmer than his right all day thanks to the constant grip he had on Victor’s hand.

Sure, it’d only been a day, but to Yuuri it felt a lot longer. To Yuuri--whose feelings stretched back to _at least_ five years ago--it felt like a lifetime. But Yuuri wasn’t going to push. He wasn’t going to take something like this for granted, and he wasn’t going to make Victor uncomfortable due to his own selfishness.

An hour of tossing and turning later, Yuuri sat up and groaned. He _knew_ he’d regret sleeping so much earlier that day—he was wide awake. Wide awake and still regretting that Victor was not sleeping beside him.

Maybe Victor was already asleep. Yuuri could sneak into his room and slip into bed with him and he would be none the wiser until morning. And hopefully by then, Yuuri would have a better excuse than “I couldn’t sleep and I missed you.”

He didn’t care how weak his reasoning was—Yuuri felt bereft after just an hour away from Victor. Tiptoeing down the hall, Yuuri was careful to step lightly. After nearly tripping over Makkachin, Yuuri went to push open the door and—wait, Makkachin?

“What are you doing out here?” Yuuri mumbled, squatting down to stroke Makkachin’s head. Makkachin squinted open an eye, tipping her head further toward Yuuri’s touch and sighing. Seeing Makkachin outside of Victor’s room made Yuuri begin to second-guess himself. He couldn’t remember a time when Victor had turned the poodle out of his room…Could it be that Victor just wanted to sleep in complete solitude?

_If he’s awake, he can tell me that himself,_ Yuuri decided, standing back up and squaring his shoulders, trying to push any anxious thoughts out of his head (with a surprising amount of success) before turning the doorknob.

Victor’s door was, luckily enough, one of the only ones in the inn that didn’t regularly creak upon moving. Yuuri was able to maintain a certain level of stealth as he nudged the door open with his fingertips and poked his head in. His eyes were immediately drawn to Victor, who was sprawled on his back with one foot hanging over the edge of the bed. His opposite arm was stretched out onto the empty half of his bed, and…He was breathing sort of heavily. Audibly, Yuuri realized. Audible enough that Yuuri could make out each and every breath from his spot in the doorway. And it was hard to make out in the dark, much less without his glasses, but Victor’s face looked tinged with pink. What, had Victor decided to take a run before bed?

As Yuuri crept closer, it became more apparent that not just Victor’s face, but his skin in general looked flushed, and there were glistening spots of sweat on his forehead. There weren’t many explanations for the state Victor was in, breaths still puffing heavily from between his lips, and now at least Yuuri had some idea why Makkachin had been banished to the hallway that night.

Victor was either sleeping or lost in his own head, because Yuuri managed to make it all the way to the empty side of the bed without Victor so much as stirring. He slowly pulled back the covers and slid into the bed, but he couldn’t actually lay down without either moving or crushing Victor’s wayward arm.

The touch to Victor’s palm rewarded Yuuri with a jump and shrill gasp. Yanking his arm away, Victor’s eyes flew open as he sat straight up, pulling the blankets up with him to cover his chest.

“Oh. Yuuri,” he said a few moments later, body visibly growing more relaxed. Reaching out a hand, he cupped Yuuri’s cheek and leaned in for a kiss.

Yuuri felt as if he had walked right into a dream. Everything felt slow and foggy and sweet, and he was struck yet again with how _nice_ kissing Victor was. How _nice_ running his fingers through Victor’s hair was. How _nice_ the feeling of slender hands rubbing his back was.

“You didn’t ask to sleep with me tonight,” Yuuri murmured between kisses.

“I thought it was too soon.”

“I meant just sleeping.”

“Either way.”

“Is it too soon for you?”

Victor pulled away entirely, shooting Yuuri an incredulous look. “What do you think?”

“Can you tell me?”

“No, it’s not too soon for me, unless it’s too soon for you.”

Yuuri laid down and, when Victor mirrored him, scooted closer to Victor’s side of the bed and slipped a leg between Victor’s, intending on sleeping this way, but—

“Victor, where are your pants?” Yuuri asked when he realized that no matter where his bare leg touched, all he could feel was skin.

“Ahaha, well…” Victor wasn’t meeting his eyes, and the flush that had somewhat faded from his cheeks was back in full-force. “We’ve been kissing a lot, Yuuri.”

And _oh_ , Yuuri had expected that maybe Victor had been touching himself before Yuuri had come in. The evidence had been pretty clear, but somehow it hadn’t occurred to Yuuri that he was the catalyst for the act, the fantasy Victor played out. Why _Victor_ was embarrassed, Yuuri didn’t understand. Victor, with the unbeatable confidence and the constant touching and the bedroom eyes and the suggestive comments.

Before yesterday, Yuuri wasn’t sure he’d have had the courage to ask Victor about this. But it was after yesterday, yesterday had happened, _today_ had happened, and for the moment at least Yuuri was comfortable in the knowledge that Victor genuinely wanted him. Reaching forward, he tipped up Victor’s chin until Victor met his gaze.

“Why are you embarrassed?”

“I’m not,” Victor breathed, “as long as you don’t think it was too soon.”

“We _have_ been kissing a lot, Victor.” With that, Yuuri kissed him again. And he kept his leg hooked firmly between both of Victor’s, wrapping an arm around Victor’s torso to press him to his chest.

“Yuuri, your shirt will get dirty,” Victor warned, pushing him away half-heartedly. The clear solution to this problem was for Yuuri to remove his shirt altogether, which he did. Ignoring the cool stickiness on Victor’s skin, Yuuri went right back to pressing against him. Sure, he’d need to wash up in the morning but right then, in that moment, it was more than worth it.

Chuckling, Victor wrapped an arm around Yuuri in turn, running his long, beautiful fingers through Yuuri’s hair as their lips moved against each other. It felt as if Victor was dropping off to sleep, his fingers stroking slower and slower as time went on, his tongue barely moving as they kissed and lips slowing to match. In contrast, Yuuri was only getting more worked up.

Kissing Victor had been nice last night, but Yuuri had been dead on his feet. Exhaustion had been more than enough to keep him from wanting anything more, but now he was wide awake in every way possible, and he could feel himself growing hard in his briefs. As he pushed his lips more insistently against Victor’s, his hips gained a mind of their own, thrusting forward and grinding tightly against Victor’s leg.

…Wait.

Yuuri’s hips were _grinding against Victor’s leg_. Somehow, Yuuri getting off _himself_ was different than the knowledge that Victor had gotten off just moments earlier. Yuuri would have to be vulnerable, trusting, open, and he wanted those things, but he could tell Victor wasn’t hard yet (and probably wouldn’t be getting there anytime soon with how recently he had come) and Yuuri’s mind was catching up to his actions _very quickly_.

With a gasp, he yanked himself away from Victor. Once Yuuri managed to focus his vision a bit better, he saw Victor’s wide, confused eyes, tousled hair, and a hand hovering just over Yuuri’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

Not “Are you okay?” Not “Is something wrong?” Yuuri knew these questions were always asked with good intentions, but it irritated him when he was clearly not okay.

But Victor didn’t ask him. Victor saw something was wrong and didn’t skirt around the problem, and maybe Victor didn’t always know how to treat him, how to help him through his anxiety, but he was _trying_.

Shoving his face into the pillow, Yuuri mumbled an apology.

“You’ll have to speak up, love.” Victor had moved closer. Yuuri could feel his breath against his ear, but Victor still wasn’t physically touching him anywhere. The shoulder Victor’s hand had been hovering over felt cold.

Keeping his eyes closed, he turned his face to expose his mouth, repeating his embarrassed “Sorry.”

“Ah, no, no ‘sorry.’ You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Yuuri opened his eyes to see Victor in front of him, his head on the other pillow, nose an inch from Yuuri’s. His arm was laying on the bed between them, but his fingers were twitching, still unsure whether to reach for Yuuri or not. Yuuri made that decision for him, grabbing his wrist and twisting his torso until Victor’s arm was properly wrapped around him, then rolled right back to his original position.

Wasting no time, Victor pulled him closer until Yuuri's forehead was pressed to his collarbone. “Now. Why are you upset?”

“Isn’t this too fast? And you probably want to get to sleep, right? I should go to my own room…” Yuuri trailed off, though he made no move to leave the bed.

“We can sleep if you want, but I’d like it if you stayed,” Victor said. Yuuri could swear he felt Victor’s lips press to his hair once he stopped speaking.

“I’m sorry I…lost control.”

“No need for 'sorry.'”

“…If I stay, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.” Yuuri’s face was burning, and he was sure even Victor could feel the heat of it.

“You can continue, if you want.”

“Isn’t this too fast?” Yuuri repeated his earlier question in a whisper, almost hoping Victor wouldn’t hear him.

A hum vibrated Victor's throat, and he began running his nails lightly up and down Yuuri’s back. “It’s not for me, but if you think so, then I suppose it is.”

Pulling away, Yuuri looked Victor in the eye, squinting in disbelief. “Victor, it has been a day.”

“I’ve liked you a lot longer than a day.”

And that made sense, Yuuri thought. After all, Yuuri had certainly liked Victor much longer than a day as well. Victor said this wasn’t too fast, and Yuuri was sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep now, his erection having not flagged in the slightest even throughout such an embarrassing conversation.

“If you want to leave, that’s okay. I don’t want to force you to do anything, though if you want to leave and come _back_ , that would be much better.”

“Absolutely not,” Yuuri squeaked, face flaming. If he left and came back, Victor would know _exactly_ what he was doing, would know _exactly_ how long it took. Just the thought made his stomach roil with nerves.

“Okay,” Victor soothed, beginning to scratch Yuuri’s back again. Yuuri wasn’t sure when he had stopped, but it was such a nice feeling. He could fall asleep like this, if he were in a normal situation; a situation in which his hips weren’t still reflexively twitching forward every few minutes in an attempt to rid themselves of the aching pressure in his groin. “What do you want to do?”

“You’re sure this isn’t too fast?”

“Yuuri, I want to be honest. I want to do everything with you, but I also want it all to be on your terms, because I don’t want to hurt you again, and I only ever want to see you cry when your tears are from happiness.”

How could he _say_ things like that? How could he make it sound as if he truly _meant_ it? Yuuri would wonder later—and keep wondering for quite a long time—how Victor could like him so much. Yuuri, a washed-up bundle of nerves. Yuuri, who Victor hadn’t even _known_ less than a year ago. Yuuri, who until very recently had a bedroom papered with posters of Victor himself.

But he _was_ offering. His expression was so earnest, and when Yuuri shifted his hips ever-so-slightly forward—just enough to brush Victor’s thigh—Victor pressed that thigh right back with no hesitation. There was absolutely nothing to indicate that Victor was lying, trying to trick him, and really, why would he?

It was all in his head, all the nerves, all the worries. Victor _wanted_ to be with him, _wanted_ this to happen, and Yuuri felt guilty for doubting that.

“Okay,” Yuuri breathed, looking right into Victor’s eyes. Their noses were so close they were touching now. Victor’s arm tightened over his shoulders before returning to stroking his back. Picking his head off the pillow, Victor leaned forward until his lips were brushing Yuuri’s ear.

“Do what feels good, Yuuri.”

Yuuri gasped and was helpless to do anything but just that, his hips jutting forward again without any input from his brain. Victor’s leg was _right there_ , muscular and hard and _heavenly_ to rub against.

Victor pulled him close, his hand pressing first against Yuuri’s lower back before sliding lower, lower, still over his boxers but very firmly on his ass. Pushing Yuuri even closer to Victor himself. Helping Yuuri get just _that_ much more pressure on his aching cock.

But somehow, it wasn’t enough. As amazing as Victor’s thigh felt, the angle was wrong. Only every fifth or sixth thrust hit Yuuri _just right_ , caused sparks to flash behind his eyelids, caused him to gasp in pleasure and tighten his grip on Victor, one hand in his hair and the other clutching his upper arm. Everything felt _good_ , but he wasn’t reaching his peak _fast enough_. This was all so overwhelming, and Yuuri was whining, whimpering, but there was no room in his mind to feel embarrassed by it; not while Victor was murmuring Yuuri’s name against his lips.

“Victor, please,” Yuuri nearly sobbed. Everything was so amazing but just not _quite_ good enough, and his pleasure was inching into the realm of pain now and he wanted to reach down and stroke himself but he didn’t want to relinquish his hold on Victor for so much as a second but...

The hand on his bottom slid up toward his back again before moving to his stomach and sliding right back down, Victor’s fingertips barely touching the waistband of Yuuri’s underwear.

“Victor,” Yuuri moaned.

“Can I, Yuuri?” Victor breathed, right into Yuuri’s ear again, and Yuuri shivered.

“Victor, _please_.”

Later, Yuuri would think about what his teenaged self would’ve thought if he had known back then that his future would hold sharing a bed with Victor Nikiforov. And not only sharing a bed, but humping the leg of Victor Nikiforov. Having Victor Nikiforov put his pale, spindly, gorgeous hand down the front of Yuuri’s boxers to stroke him. Having Victor Nikiforov kiss him and tell him he’s beautiful and _thank him_ for _letting him do that_.

But in the moment, Yuuri’s mind didn’t have much room for idle thoughts. Yuuri’s mind was stuck on the fact that there was a warm hand wrapped around his cock, putting not quite enough pressure to get him off, but _oh_ , _that_ felt good, and Yuuri’s gasp must’ve let Victor known because he twisted his wrist in just the same manner on the next upstroke, and Yuuri _sobbed_.

“Come on, Yuuri. Come for me, love.”

With one swipe of Victor’s thumb over the head of his cock, all the muscles in Yuuri’s body tightened at once. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath as his body jerked with his orgasm.

Victor’s hand was still moving, bliss slipping all-too-quickly into pain. Yuuri kicked out with a whine, Victor chuckling quietly as he pulled his hand out of Yuuri’s boxers and went right back to stroking his back…

…At least until both of them realized at exactly the same moment that Victor’s hand was dragging a sticky wet trail all over Yuuri.

“Victor!” Yuuri groaned, shoving his face back into the pillow.

“Oops!” And although Victor didn’t _sound_ too sorry, the blush on his face and the sheepish smile told Yuuri otherwise.

“Stay here. I’ll clean you up,” Victor promised before leaping across the room and out the door without, Yuuri realized, putting on any clothes.

He _really_ hoped Victor didn’t pass anyone in the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way I write Mari may or may not make it horribly evident that I am monolingual and do not know many people who have English as a second language, and those I do know are very fluent in English. If there was a way I could’ve better shown my own headcanon that while Mari is decent in English, she is not as fluent as Yuuri, please comment (nicely) and I may edit further to fix it, depending on how fixable it is.
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hello I know it's been awhile, and I know I've used this excuse before, but school is very much kicking my butt right now so I have basically no time to do anything but I am on a tiny break from the madness, so here is another chapter. :) Thank you guys for sticking with me despite my unpredictable update schedule. 
> 
> Also, thank you so much to anyone who commented on my last chapter! Normally I try to reply to everybody, but since I haven't been on AO3 for a few weeks, I figure it'd be a bit late to reply now without it being awkward? Lol. I'll try to come online earlier in the future, if only to read and reply to comments. :) 
> 
> (Chapter takes place just before the Grand Prix Final on the night of Victor and Yuuri's engagement.)

“I can’t believe…I can’t…You…” Yuuri couldn’t get the words out. His shock was still freezing his thoughts and preventing his tongue from shaping the questions he so desperately wanted to ask. They weren’t even back at the hotel yet, instead walking leisurely down the streets of Barcelona. Well, Victor seemed to be walking leisurely. Yuuri, on the other hand, was having a bit of a crisis.

“Why didn’t you _tell me_?”

“I thought you wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened. I never thought you had forgotten. No wonder you seemed so disturbed when I first came to Hasetsu! I was a bit of a fool.”

Maybe Victor was more concerned than his pace and tone of voice showed, Yuuri realized, as he saw in the light of a nearby streetlamp that Victor was keeping his eyes carefully averted and a blush was painting his sharp cheekbones.

“You…? No, Victor, I must’ve seemed like such a jerk, I’m so sorry.”

The hotel was in view now, and Yuuri felt Victor’s hand fall onto the small of his back, putting on just the slightest amount of pressure so Yuuri could tell it was there, but not so much that it felt that Victor was herding him.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

Silence enveloped them as Victor held the door open for Yuuri and they took the elevator up to their room. The quiet did nothing but cause the anxious thoughts buzzing in Yuuri’s head to worsen.

He waited until the door to their room was shut and Yuuri could be sure they were really and truly alone.

“Victor, I’m so sorry,” Yuuri choked out, bowing his head as he unbuttoned his coat

“If anyone needs to apologize, it’s me.” Yuuri’s face tipped up to meet Victor’s when he felt thin fingers pushing gently on his chin. The movement was strangely reminiscent to one of their earliest interactions back in Hasetsu, but Yuuri tried not to focus on that, to instead focus on the moment and Victor’s blush and shining eyes and the tiniest wobble in his voice.

“I didn’t tell you sooner, because I thought—back when I first came to Hasetsu—that your actions were your way of rejecting me. If you didn’t want to remember, then I wasn’t going to force you to think about it.”

“You must’ve thought you’d made a horrible mistake,” 

“I certainly did,” Victor said with a chuckle. “It was both embarrassing and sad, but really, Yuuri, everything’s great now. There’s no need to worry.”

With a shuddering sigh, Yuuri touched Victor’s pale cheek, his new ring catching the light and Yuuri’s own breath catching at the sight. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to that.

“Thank you for saying so, but I’m still sorry.”

Victor was already opening his mouth to protest, but Yuuri continued before he could get a word out.

“But I do agree we should put it behind us, at least for now. The Grand Prix Final is tomorrow, and…” he moved his hand so that Victor could see the ring, would have no question what Yuuri was trying to say even if Yuuri couldn’t quite get the words out yet.

But then, that’s why he had Victor. If he couldn’t say it, Victor would do it for him.

“We’re engaged.”

Yuuri lunged forward, thankful that Victor had been standing close enough to the bed that he could fall back onto it when the surprise of Yuuri’s weight was too much for him to hold. The change in position didn’t stop Yuuri though. He crawled up Victor’s front to grip his shoulders, attaching his lips to Victor’s own.

Arms wrapped tightly around Yuuri’s back before moving downward to untuck his shirt from his pants and suddenly there was bare skin on bare skin and Yuuri couldn’t hold back a shiver of delight.

Of course they had touched each other like this many times, even spent night after night pressed together shirtless in slumber, but somehow every time felt like the first. Every time brought Yuuri a spark of happiness and surprise, as if his body still couldn’t believe that Victor Nikiforov was here with him, touching him, _desiring_ him.

But he was. And now there was a heady pressure of a shiny gold ring on Yuuri’s finger to remind him.

Victor was still mapping patterns with his fingertips on Yuuri’s back when Yuuri began squirming out of his shirt. Victor’s own movements became more frantic when Yuuri unlatched his lips from Victor’s to push Victor’s coat off his shoulders and yank Victor’s sweater up his torso.

“Ah, Yuuri, no need to rush,” Victor breathed, though his actions didn’t agree at all with his words. Pushing forward until Yuuri was seated in his lap, Victor tore his sweater and T-shirt over his head and threw them, along with his coat, into a pile on the floor. Kicking his shoes off, he backed up until he hit the pillows at the head of the bed, Yuuri still perched on his thighs.

The movement caused Yuuri to freeze, hands on Victor’s shoulders and eyes wide.

“You’ll need to take these off,” Victor spoke in a way that seemed more directed to himself than to Yuuri as he carefully removed Yuuri’s own shoes and plopped them on the floor. “And these.” Yuuri’s glasses were pulled off then, and Victor kissed the tip of his nose before folding the frames and placing them on the bedside table.

“Now,” Victor said with a bright smile, tugging Yuuri closer with arms around his waist, “where were we?”

The following kiss was hot, desperate, Yuuri pressing as tightly against Victor as he could get, but he still didn’t feel close enough. All of his earlier embarrassment had faded, and now the only thought running through his head was _we’re engaged_.

Yuuri wondered if he’d ever be able to say—or even _think_ \--those words without becoming breathless with happiness.

At least Victor’s own excitement seemed on par with Yuuri’s. Neither of them had even removed their pants yet, but Yuuri could feel something poking the underside of his right thigh and Victor’s hips kept jutting up in tiny, aborted thrusts. Every few seconds Victor let out a moan so lewd and desperate that Yuuri wondered if he even noticed he was making such a noise.

Victor was keeping his hands in a very proper location above Yuuri’s waist. They had certainly spent many nights together—and not all of them simply sleeping—but they had only ever used their hands. Not once had they ventured further, and Yuuri had been happy with that. He hadn’t been ready for anything else and Victor had never pushed, never made him feel as if what they _did_ do was anything less for it, but Yuuri’s whole body was tingling with desire and his groin was aching and all he wanted was for Victor to be _closer_.

Abruptly, Yuuri pulled his hands out of where they’d been threaded through Victor’s hair and grabbed Victor’s own hands, putting them very firmly on his ass.

“Victor. I’m ready.” _Don’t blush don’t look away use your inner eros, Yuuri, you’ve got this._

“Oh?” Victor’s voice was at least an entire octave higher than Yuuri had ever heard it.

“I want you in—inside.” His face was on fire. It was going to burst into flames and he was going to burn this entire building down. But he forced himself to maintain eye contact with Victor, fed off of the matching blush on Victor’s usually pale face, the spark in Victor’s eyes, the satisfaction of surprising Victor into speechlessness.

“Yuuri, what are you doing to me,” Victor moaned. “We can’t tonight.”

“O-oh.” Yuuri was shrinking away, muscles seizing tight in embarrassment. 

“Oh no, no, Yuuri, stay here, don’t go away,” Victor said, quick to reach out and pull Yuuri to his chest. “Not because I don’t want to, no, Yuuri, you don’t understand just how badly I want to.” Victor’s hug tightened with his words, and Yuuri could’ve sworn he felt Victor’s cock twitch even under their layers of clothing.

“We can’t because you’re skating tomorrow, and I would never forgive myself if it was my fault that you didn’t skate your best. I’m sure you wouldn’t forgive me either.”

“Does it hurt that much?”

“It shouldn’t, but it isn’t something you’re used to, so we shouldn’t chance it. However, _I_ don’t have to skate tomorrow…”

“Oh, Victor, I…It’s silly, but I always imagined…for the first time…”

“That it’d be you?”

Yuuri buried his face further into the crook of Victor’s neck.

“Believe me, there are plenty of other ways for us to make love tonight. Let’s save _that_ for after the Grand Prix Final, okay?” Victor said, running a hand over the back of Yuuri’s neck.

“Thank you.”

Victor breathed deeply, as if he was going to say something else, but seemed to decide against it as he exhaled heavily and buried his face in Yuuri’s hair.

“If you’re comfortable with it, we could…we could still try something new?” Victor sounding this unsure was already something new, Yuuri wanted to say, but instead he just picked up his head to look into Victor’s eyes, silently asking for clarification.

“I would really like to use my mouth.”

“Oh. I. Yes, that’d be. Good,” Yuuri squeaked, nails digging little crescent marks into Victor’s shoulders.

The return of Victor’s confident smile was immediate. “Okay. Lay back.”

Victor and Yuuri switched places so Yuuri’s head was resting on the pillow. He wasn’t sure what to do with his legs or his hands, awkwardly drumming a finger on the bed beside him as he looked up into Victor’s face. Soft, blue eyes gazed down at him, and the swollen pink of Victor’s lips had never been more tempting.

“Kiss me,” Yuuri breathed, and Victor immediately obliged, ducking down to hover over Yuuri.

His hands moved to Yuuri’s waist in the same movement, first undoing his jeans before sliding them, along with Yuuri’s underwear, down his legs. They were thrown into a pile on the floor without Victor once breaking the kiss. Now though, he was kissing down Yuuri’s neck, Yuuri’s chest, Yuuri’s stomach, and he had gotten all the way to the groove where Yuuri’s hip met his thigh when Yuuri gasped out a “Wait!”

Stopping right away, Victor’s head popped up.

“You too. You…take your pants off.”

“Anything you want,” Victor said with another smile before doing exactly as Yuuri asked.

Both bared but for the rings on their fingers, Yuuri couldn’t help his gaze from sliding down Victor’s body, his skin almost glowing in the soft light of the lamp at their bedside. Victor was already noticeably hard, cock red and swollen where it was resting on Yuuri’s hip. Ignoring that fact entirely, Victor went right back to his earlier task of kissing down Yuuri’s body.

Yuuri’s interruption seemed to have convinced Victor he needed to start his journey from the beginning. Capturing Yuuri’s lips in a deep, slow kiss was only the first step. Yuuri couldn’t keep his eyes open against the flood of lovely sensations when Victor rotated between nipping, kissing, and licking the skin of Yuuri’s throat. Victor’s blunt nails were running up and down Yuuri’s arms, and Victor’s touches had barely reached Yuuri’s chest, but he was already _desperate_ to be touched in a more sensitive place.

“ _Vic_ -tor,” Yuuri choked out when the tip of Victor’s tongue touched his nipple. “Victor, please.”

“Begging for me when your cock hasn’t even been touched. I’m flattered,” he teased. Yuuri could _hear_ the smirk in his voice, but he was anticipating what was to come too much to care.

Unfortunately, his anticipation also made his response stick in his throat. “Ungh.”

“So well-spoken, Yuuri. I’m always so impressed by your vocabulary.”

Narrowing his eyes, Yuuri internally vowed--with the few brain cells he had that were not currently focused on the patterns Victor was drawing on his stomach—that soon enough, he would steal Victor’s own words. Or, at the very least, Victor wouldn’t be able to pull out English words like ‘vocabulary’ so easily.

“Aw, don’t give me that look!” Victor punctuated this statement by finally, _finally_ wrapping a hand around Yuuri’s cock and giving one firm stroke.

It was barely anything, but at the same time, it was _everything_. Yuuri felt like he was overheating, sweat dripping down his face. His body contorted with the sensation, hands flailing and gripping at the sheets as he let out an undignified shout.

“Vitya,” he breathed, opening his eyes to stare into Victor’s, to see the love in the shine of Victor’s eyes and in the blush on his face and in the sweat dampening his silver hair. In the way his plush lips quirked up into the tiniest smile. In the way that Victor grabbed Yuuri’s hand and threaded their fingers together. In the feeling of the ring on that finger, a cool pressure contrasting with the heat of skin.

“Oh,” Victor said, before ducking down and taking Yuuri into his mouth.

If Yuuri had thought Victor’s hand was intense, his mouth was at an entirely different level. Wet heat surrounded the crown of his cock, Victor’s tongue alternating between dipping into the slit and massaging that _one spot_ that never failed to make Yuuri’s legs turn to jelly. Victor’s hand was still slowly pumping the shaft where his mouth wasn’t covering, and Yuuri had half a mind to ask why Victor wasn’t moving further down—after all, Yuuri wasn’t a _regular_ watcher of porn, but what he did see seemed to indicate that blowjobs came with a serious risk of choking—but if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he _wanted_ that. What Victor was currently doing was pure bliss.

And then Victor was _sucking on him_ , and Yuuri was quite sure he had never felt anything better. At least until seconds later when a hum vibrated through him and he could hear the hum coming from Victor at the same time that he could feel it through his entire body and the sensation was enough for his legs to spasm and jerk.

Yuuri was gasping, squirming, moving the hand that had been gripping the bedsheets to instead rest on Victor’s head, just because he wanted another point of contact with Victor. He wanted to touch him everywhere he could, and when he realized that Victor was slowly bucking his own hips, grinding them against the bedsheets, Yuuri tugged Victor’s hair until he got his attention.

“Move up,” Yuuri gasped. _Very eloquent. Surely he’ll know exactly what you want._

“What?” Yuuri had to shake his head to break away from the distraction of how shiny Victor’s lips were.

“So I can…help?”

“Help with…?” Victor pointed toward his pelvis, seemingly losing track of his own words now. Later, Yuuri would take the time to feel proud, despite not having done much to cause it.

“Yeah. My foot.” He wiggled his toes to try to make his point clearer. “I won’t kick again. Promise.”

Yuuri could see the moment when his request clicked in Victor’s brain, when it began to make sense and Victor decided he _liked_ it. Victor wasted no time in going right back to what he had been doing, only this time, his stomach wasn’t resting on the bed beneath him.

His weight was balanced between his elbows and his left hip. His back was curved in a way that Yuuri worried was uncomfortable, but there were no complaints forthcoming, especially when—if Yuuri bent his knee just a bit—Yuuri’s foot could reach Victor’s dripping cock.

The moan that burst from Victor’s throat on that first touch rumbled right through and into Yuuri, making his foot twitch, toes flexing. Victor’s mouth was still on him, licking and sucking and making lightning tingle up Yuuri’s spine with every touch, but Victor’s movements were getting sloppier. Moans were falling from his lips so often that Yuuri doubted they were purposeful. Not that he was complaining, of course, the vibrations adding a _perfect_ sensation to the wet, hot pressure surrounding him, but there was a distinct difference from Victor’s earlier deliberate moans.

Victor’s eyes were closed now as well. Before, he had been watching Yuuri, taking in Yuuri’s reactions and molding his movements to what Yuuri liked. Now, saliva was mixed with the precum dripping down Yuuri’s shaft. There still had been no scrapes of Victor’s teeth along Yuuri’s sensitive skin, but Victor was no longer holding the base of his cock. Instead, he had placed a hand on each of Yuuri’s thighs so that he was twisted sideways at the waist, his chest still mostly flat on the bed while his hips were sideways for better access to Yuuri’s foot.

Yuuri wished he could do more to help Victor feel good, but the feelings rushing through Yuuri himself were _too much_. Sparks of pleasure were shooting through him with every movement, and even the wet, sticky fluid being dragged over the sole of his foot as Victor pushed his hips desperately against him had a sensation so novel that Yuuri quite liked it.

“Yuuri, Yuuri, _yes_ ,” Victor mumbled, nearly incoherent as he placed hurried kisses down Yuuri’s cock. The movements of his hips were growing frantic, the wheezes of breath escaping him coming out in high-pitched whines.

And now that Victor’s mouth was no longer surrounding him, Yuuri had more presence of mind to move his foot. He pressed his heel against the head of Victor's cock and his toes against the base.

“Oh, _Yuuri_ , right there, stay there, _please_.”

Yuuri would’ve thought himself crazy if he had ever so much as _considered_ moving away. Victor was lost, so far gone in his own pleasure that he had curled over completely on his side. His head was resting on Yuuri’s thigh, and Yuuri was so hard that it hurt.

“Victor,” Yuuri panted, threading his fingers through Victor’s hair and tugging.

Yuuri wasn’t sure if it was the hair-pulling or that last rub of his foot that did him in, but with a choked gasp, Victor dug his nails into Yuuri’s thigh and jerked his hips and suddenly Yuuri’s foot was quite a bit wetter than it had been mere moments before.

The seconds ticked by, Victor unmoving other than the harsh, audible breaths he was panting against Yuuri’s leg, but Yuuri himself was still aching for release, and it was getting a whole lot harder to keep from reaching down and finishing himself off after watching Victor come so spectacularly.

“Victor,” Yuuri groaned, grappling at Victor’s hair.

Victor’s eyes were shining and his hair was adorably mussed as he looked up at Yuuri.

“You’re so _perfect_ ,” he said in a hushed voice, resting his chin on Yuuri’s hip. At any other time, Yuuri would be touched. He would appreciate the intimacy of the moment and relish in wonder at how he—Katsuki Yuuri, of all people—managed to snag such an amazing person.

But at that time in particular, there was a near-painful throb between his legs mere _inches_ away from Victor’s flushed face, and the knowledge that relief and bliss were _so close_ was the only thing on Yuuri’s mind.

“ _Vitya,_ ” Yuuri whined.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor rumbled back, but at least he raised a lazy hand and wrapped it loosely around Yuuri’s cock, stroking at an infuriating, slow pace.

Despite the lacking speed, fire licked at Yuuri’s bones. Tension grew and grew and grew through his entire body until he was _just on the edge of snapping_ , but the pressure wasn’t enough, the speed wasn’t enough, and tears were falling down Yuuri’s cheeks in his desperate need to come.

“Aaah, ungh, Victor, please, harder!”

“Like this?” Yuuri got no more warning than this before his cock was, once again, engulfed in the wet heat of Victor’s mouth and Victor’s tongue was suddenly _everywhere_. Swirling around the head, dipping into his slit, licking down the shaft. Yuuri was squirming and yelling gibberish and all it took was one enthusiastic suck to the head of his cock for all that tension to snap.

He was floating. He was laying on a cloud, warm in the sunlight and feeling completely wrung out as he stretched his legs luxuriously all the way down to the tips of his toes. He stretched his back next, then his arms and realized that his hands were still clenched tightly in something gloriously soft. He wasn’t sure if he was quite ready to let go of that. It felt so nice and silky and he just wanted to run his fingers through it over and over forever.

There was another hand covering his, pulling his hands away from the nice, soft thing.

“Yuuri.”

Yuuri blinked his eyes open. _Oh. Victor._ Victor was holding his hands now, and Yuuri had the thought that the soft thing he’d been petting was probably Victor’s hair. Nothing was softer than Victor’s hair, after all. Except maybe Makkachin’s fur, but Makkachin was definitely not in the room.

Victor pressed a feather-light kiss to Yuuri’s lips, though Yuuri was too tired and thinking too slowly to return the gesture.

“I’m going to get a towel to clean you up, and _then_ you can fall asleep, love,” Victor murmured against his lips before getting off the bed and wobbling his way to the bathroom. Yuuri was left with the thought that he could really get used to that view before exhaustion caused his eyes to flutter shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope it’s coming across in this fic that I have a huge headcanon that Yuuri is one of those people who gets _exhausted_ after coming. Like, unbelievably tired, can’t keep his eyes open for a second exhausted. Victor thinks it’s the most adorable thing in the world and Yuuri doesn’t even really think anything of it since it’s just always been that way and sure, it makes for some icky mornings when he wakes up with himself, his sheets, and his pajamas all sticky, but the feeling he gets when the mess is caused was always well worth it. And now he has Victor, who seems to get more energetic after orgasm if anything (he’s the type who likes to stay up for like 2 hours after sex talking his heart out. Course he’s never had a person he actually _wanted_ to share much with until Yuuri, and now he’s lucky if Yuuri stays awake for the clean up), but being asleep doesn’t mean that Victor can’t _cuddle_ Yuuri, so he makes do with resting his head on Yuuri’s shoulder and whispering secrets into his ear until Victor finally drifts off to sleep as well.
> 
> ...Ok and now I just wrote a mini fic in my end notes, so that just happened. Aaaaanyway, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!  <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Please PLEASE read my end notes I know they can be long sometimes but there is actually important and relevant things in them this time that I didn't want to put in the beginning notes ok please and thank you.)
> 
> Enjoy! <3

The wedding was in early spring on the beach in Hasetsu. It was small--only family and close friends were invited in an attempt to keep the press out of things, but it was lovely and warm and happy all the same. Phichit and Chris and Victor combined took enough pictures to fill a good five photo albums, Yuuri noted when all was said and done, and even if his tone was exasperated, they all knew that Yuuri was grateful he would be able to look back and remember every moment of that day for the rest of his life.

Victor had technically chosen the location though Yuuri had put up no argument.

“It’s where everything began. Very poetic,” Victor had said when he’d made the suggestion.

“Didn’t you tell me that everything began in Sochi at the Grand Prix banquet?” Yuuri had teased.

“It began then for _me_ , but it doesn’t count for you,” Victor had pouted.

Yuuri had never meant to argue, and Victor knew that. Hasetsu meant so much to both of them, was where half their family lived, and they both knew it’d be a lot easier for the other, Russian half to travel to Japan than the other way around.

The ceremony itself was short and sweet and there wasn’t a dry eye on the beach by the end. The reception was held at the inn, and despite the small number of guests, the excitement and happiness filled the room to the brim. Sneaking out just after 9:00 was made easy by the spectacle Chris and Minako were making of themselves, shoving people aside and knocking into tables and chairs as they danced together. It probably helped that the majority of the guests were full of good food and alcohol and high spirits.  

Regardless of how they managed it, Yuuri and Victor creeped right out the door together, hands clasped tight, Victor dragging Yuuri along as if Yuuri wasn’t in just as much of a hurry as his fiancé—no, _husband_ , and Yuuri had a feeling it would take him awhile to get used to that regardless of how long he’d waited for it. The only sign of anyone noticing their early departure was a knowing smirk from Mari across the room.

Mari wouldn’t bring attention to them, Yuuri knew. But Mari would also make a point of getting up early enough to catch them before they left for the airport first thing in the morning just so she could tease. No matter how many times his big sister had picked fun at Yuuri for how head-over-heels he was for Victor, Yuuri still blushed just as bright and Victor still joined in the teasing, as if Mari wasn’t making as much fun of him as she was Yuuri. Devils, the both of them, Yuuri thought to himself even as he followed Victor out of the room and up the stairs to Victor’s old bedroom.

…Or that was where Yuuri had assumed they’d be going, considering the needlessly large bed they’d put in for Victor when he’d first arrived had never been moved back out. But no, instead they entered Yuuri’s room, with Yuuri’s wooden desk and the pale spots on the walls where his posters used to hang and his tiny twin bed. Yuuri’s confusion had barely enough time to register before Victor had turned around and wrapped him in a hug.

“I’ve been waiting all day and all night to have you alone. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t wait any longer,” Victor said, nuzzling into the crook of Yuuri’s neck. “I know we’ll have our whole honeymoon, but you don’t know what you do to me when you look like _t_ _hat_.”

“I look the way I always look.”

“Exactly,” Victor said before latching his lips onto the curve of Yuuri’s throat and sucking until Yuuri’s knees were shaking and his fingers were digging into Victor’s shoulders so tightly that Yuuri was afraid they’d bruise.

Walking backwards, Victor pulled Yuuri along until Victor’s own legs hit the bed and he sat, pulling Yuuri to stand between his knees. Yuuri leaned forward for a proper kiss though it was ended much sooner than he wished when Victor pulled away to put more focus into loosening Yuuri’s tie.

“Why here?” Yuuri took the brief reprieve from Victor’s touches—however unwanted it was—to ask what he’d been wondering since Victor had bypassed his own room for Yuuri’s.

“Where else?” Victor said, not pausing in his task of removing Yuuri’s suit.

“You know the double bed is still in your room. You slept there last night.”

“Is that where you want to be?”

“It’s bigger.”

“We can still fit on this bed.”

“It’ll be tight.”

“Gives me more of an excuse to cuddle you through the night.”

“You don’t need an excuse for that,” Yuuri said, feeling his face warm even as he forced himself to keep looking down at Victor until his gaze was met.

“Maybe I want my first time sleeping with my new husband to be in the room that means the most to him. Maybe I want to be sure that you are in my arms when we wake up tomorrow instead of a foot away across the bed.

“Is it too strange? Doing something like this in your old room?” Here Victor paused. Yuuri’s tie was barely tied, he had one arm out of his jacket and his shirt was unbuttoned as far as Victor could reach without untucking it from his pants. Victor’s hair was rumpled and his face sweaty, but otherwise, he was still the picture of composure.

“No! No.” Yuuri lowered himself until he was perched on Victor’s thighs with his knees resting on the bed on either side of Victor’s hips. “This is perfect. Anywhere is perfect. I love you.”

“Yuuriiiii~!” Victor wailed as he threw his arms around Yuuri and buried his face in Yuuri’s chest. “I love you, too! I love you I love you I love you.”

“Just because I agreed to…um…do _this_ in my old bedroom?”

“No, because you’re Yuuri,” Victor said, tightening his arms. Yuuri could swear he could hear the pout in Victor’s voice. “You’re Yuuri, and you’re my _husband_ , and I love you.”

Yuuri sighed as he stroked his fingers through Victor’s hair. He wouldn’t say Victor was _drunk_ , but it was becoming apparent that he was a tad more inebriated than Yuuri was. Regardless, the feeling of Yuuri’s fingers in Victor’s hair was making Victor pliant, making him melt right against Yuuri and Yuuri knew he would never stop enjoying making Victor feel good.

(Not that Yuuri wasn’t getting anything out of the action. After all, Victor’s hair was soft and fine and felt like silk.)

Yuuri had found over the months and months of being with Victor that it was surprisingly easy to lull Victor to sleep just by petting his hair. Yuuri wouldn’t have minded if that was the result on this particular night. They had the rest of their lives to be awake and in love, so what did it matter if they fell asleep fully clothed on their wedding night?

Quite fortunately, Victor did not seem to share that opinion. Or, at the very least, he cared enough that something _more_ happened that night that he pulled himself out of the stupor Yuuri’s gentle hand had put him in before going right back to his earlier task of removing Yuuri’s suit.

“I won’t be distracted, love. Not tonight.” Victor gave Yuuri a cheeky wink as he pushed Yuuri’s shirt and jacket off his shoulders together and let them fall to the floor.

“That’ll get wrinkled,” Yuuri pretended to be annoyed, but he couldn’t hide a smirk.

Victor matched his expression as he said, “I’ll take it to the cleaners.”

“You’ll forget.”

“Never.”

He would forget and Yuuri knew it, but Yuuri didn’t care. Taking a trip to the cleaners himself was a small price to pay if the cause of it was the man seated before him.

“Well, if you’re going to be making a trip there anyway…” Yuuri said as he began to unbutton Victor’s own shirt before adding it to the growing pile of clothes.

“You’re right. We should bring your pants, too. Have to keep the outfit together, hmm?” As he spoke, Victor hooked his fingers into the waistband of Yuuri’s pants, tugging them lightly.

It wasn’t long before both of them had stripped completely, clothes sprawled over the floor while their bodies sprawled across the bed. Or sprawled as much as they could in a twin bed, but neither was complaining about the necessity of Yuuri laying completely on top of Victor. His eyelids were heavy and Victor was warm and if it weren’t for the heat of arousal rushing through Yuuri’s veins, he was sure he could fall asleep just like this.

No matter how often he did it, Yuuri didn’t think he’d ever get tired of kissing Victor. He’d never get tired of the feeling of Victor’s skin pressing to Yuuri’s own. He’d _certainly_ never get tired of the little whimpers and sighs Victor made when Yuuri shifted against him or ran his nails up Victor’s sides or sucked on Victor’s bottom lip.

Victor was holding him close, the hand resting between Yuuri’s shoulder blades putting enough pressure that it would take some effort to pull away from him. Yuuri wasn’t complaining, though. Yuuri would never complain about touching Victor, _being_ touched by Victor. Even now, it didn’t seem like enough. He wanted to be closer, _closer_. He wanted to be so close that it’d be impossible to tell where Victor ended and Yuuri began.

“I want you,” Yuuri murmured into Victor’s mouth.

“You have me, Yuuri. Forever.”

Yuuri pulled away with a huff, forehead wrinkled in a halfhearted glare. He didn’t blame Victor for being dense, for not getting his true meaning, but it was painful all the same. Yuuri couldn’t say it. As blunt and real he had been to Victor in the past, this moment was too bright and fuzzy and warm to say words like "sex" or "fuck" and the heat flowing through Yuuri’s body was making it quite impossible for him to find any better words to use.

So, in place of words, he grabbed Victor’s hands and placed them quite insistently on his backside.

“Oh,” Victor breathed, his eyebrows nearly disappearing in his mussed bangs.

“Okay?”

“Yes, _yes,_ Yuuri, of course, please.”

With Victor’s ecstatic consent, Yuuri climbed off of his husband, sliding down to lay beside him. Victor didn’t need so much as a nudge to realize Yuuri wanted to switch places, popping up to rest on his knees.

“Yuuri, we need—”

“Stuff’s in the drawer,” Yuuri said. He could feel his face heating with a blush, but he didn’t look away from Victor. His gaze felt like a magnet, pulling Yuuri tighter and tighter until Yuuri had no hope of escape.

“You only have lube?” Victor asked after a minute of digging through Yuuri’s desk drawers.

“I…yes? What else do we need?”

“Condoms?” Victor was flushing more as he continued, “I have some in my room. I could get them…?”

“I don’t…If you want to, then yes, but I don’t mind.”

The sound that escaped Victor’s throat was some odd combination of a growl and a moan as he flopped back on top of Yuuri, crushing his mouth to his husband’s.

“It’ll feel weird, you know. Afterwards. Very wet and sticky, and we’ll have to get you cleaned up right away, because that is not a mess you’ll want to deal with in the morning, Yuuri, I’m sure.”

“I don’t care, as long as it’s you.” Yuuri squirmed under Victor’s body, his arousal having not faded in the slightest during their conversation. Victor’s proximity was making his cock throb, begging to be touched, and while the last thing Yuuri wanted to do was rush Victor, he felt as if he had waited a lifetime for what was to come.

(He would wait a lifetime more if that’s what Victor wanted, but that was neither here nor there.)

Victor, thankfully, clearly did not want to wait, pushing his face into the crook of Yuuri’s shoulder and sucking, distracting only slightly from a pale, slender hand snaking down Yuuri’s body and grasping his cock. Victor gave him one slow stroke, making Yuuri’s eyelids flutter closed and pulling a moan of relief from his lungs before letting go and trailing his fingers lower, _lower_ , and then Yuuri was squirming for a reason other than impatience.

Yuuri hadn’t noticed when Victor had managed to not only open the lube but apply it to his fingers, but it was obvious he had when the shock of cold touched his rim. He tensed up. He knew that was the opposite of what he should do and that it would only slow things down, make things more difficult and more painful, but the combination of cold and nerves made such a visceral reaction impossible to stop.

Victor pressed a kiss to the corner of Yuuri’s mouth. “I’m going to go slow. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“I know,” Yuuri whispered. He cupped Victor’s jaw, returned his kiss, let the familiar taste and feel of Victor lull his body into relaxation.

Victor’s prodding digit slipped inside of him with ease. There was no resulting feeling of tension, no nerves following the motion. Victor’s finger was longer than Yuuri’s own, yet thinner, the knuckles knobbier and his nails kept clean and short. Yuuri had admired Victor’s hands for years before meeting him in person, and Yuuri would always privately believe that those hands were _made_ for touching him.

Whether trailing along Yuuri’s jawline, massaging his back and shoulders, circled firmly around his cock, or plunged _inside_ of Yuuri, it was a sin for Victor’s hands to not be on him _somewhere_.

(Yuuri would be embarrassed to discover later that with the feeling of Victor’s finger entering him, his desperate babbling was not completely incoherent. His love for Victor’s hands would be a point of teasing for years to come.)

Preparing didn’t take long. It seemed as if mere moments after pushing in his first finger, Yuuri was already begging Victor for a second, then a third. Even though his cock hadn’t been touched since that one stroke what seemed like _ages_ ago, it was still hard and red and dripping steadily onto Yuuri’s stomach, and as maddening as it was that Victor just couldn’t quite seem to find Yuuri’s prostate, it was likely for the best. Yuuri was fairly sure that one prod to the sensitive gland would’ve sent him straight into an orgasm.

He told Victor this as Victor was pulling his fingers out, biting his lip and looking at Yuuri with a creased brow.

“Vitya, please, I don’t _care_ if you couldn’t find it I _need you in me now_. You’ll get other chances, I promise.” Yuuri’s voice was mere breath floating between them, interrupted by sighs as the dragging of Victor’s fingers left him.

His face was hot, and he knew it must be bright red, but for once it wasn’t due to embarrassment. Clenching and unclenching his fingers in the bedsheets, Yuuri watched as Victor reached for the bottle of lube and moved to stop him just as he was about to pour more of it onto his hand.

“I’ll do that,” Yuuri said, plucking the bottle from Victor.

Victor opened his mouth to respond, but only a deep moan came out as Yuuri’s newly-slicked fingers wrapped around cock.

“Yuuri, _Yuuri,_ stop,” Victor cried, his hips continuing to thrust even once Yuuri pulled his hand away.

“Too much? I barely touched you,” Yuuri teased.

Glaring, Victor flicked him on the nose. “I know you’re just as desperate, love.”

“If you know I’m so desperate, what are you waiting for?”

Yet again, Yuuri acted quickly enough that Victor had no chance to respond. Grabbing Victor’s shoulders, Yuuri rolled over, pulling Victor along with him until Victor was flat on his back, Yuuri hovering above him.

In another life, Yuuri knew he would be self-conscious and embarrassed and hiding his face and possibly fleeing the room after doing something so bold. But in that moment, Victor’s bright blue eyes were huge and surprised and fixated right on Yuuri with an emotion that was very obviously a mixture of love, devotion, and awe. The heavy weight of his gaze was both incredible and terrifying. It made Yuuri feel powerful, but worry about the possibility of disappointing Victor.

“Is this okay?” Yuuri asked, trying to cut off his doubts before they had a chance to fully surface.

“More than okay,” Victor breathed. He ran his blunt nails up and down Yuuri’s sides, fingers tickling teasingly close to Yuuri’s groin but refusing to touch where Yuuri most wanted them.

“Okay,” Yuuri said, more to calm himself than to really answer Victor. He took a deep breath, let it out in a rush, and grabbed Victor’s cock before he had any more time to talk himself out of what he was about to do.

Yuuri wasn’t afraid of having sex with Victor, but it was a new experience to be so in control. He had always—quite willingly—given control over to Victor, and it had always been amazing and perfect, but the fear of hurting Yuuri was plain in the slowness of Victor’s movements, the anxiety clouding his usually shining eyes.

The look on Victor’s face was helping to push Yuuri’s own worries away. Yuuri was barely touching him, only holding his cock still, the head of it barely brushing Yuuri’s rim, yet Victor was giving him a look that was practically _worshipful_. His lips were moving in a whispered mantra of “please Yuuri please please _Yuuri_ ” and those hands, those gorgeous, spindly hands, were gripping Yuuri’s hips as if Victor was afraid he might float away if he didn’t hold on.

And then Yuuri sat down, just enough to push the head of Victor’s cock fully into him, and Victor groaned so loudly that Yuuri had a passing worry that those still awake downstairs might actually be able to hear it.

“Oh Yuuri, Yuuri, you feel so good please please Yuuri feels…good,” Victor was babbling. The grip on Yuuri’s hips was tight, so much so that he was sure he’d have ten little bruises there come morning.

(If he had had half a mind to consider it in the moment, he would’ve realized he was greatly looking forward to them.)

But, as it were, the stretch of the intrusion was taking all of Yuuri’s mental capacity. Victor was _big_. Yuuri had always known that Victor was well-endowed, but it had never quite occurred to him just how much bigger a penis was than fingers. Now was not the best time to realize it, with Victor begging beneath him and Yuuri’s own blood near boiling with the need for friction, for pleasure. The burn of the stretch wasn’t enough to deter him, but he needed to stay still and adjust.

Victor’s hips were pushing up in little aborted thrusts. He seemed so far gone that Yuuri was sure he didn’t even realize he was doing it, but the movement was helping him. It afforded him just enough of a shift that the near-painful stretch became something closer to pleasure.

“A-ah, Vitya, please don’t stop!”

Victor’s only answer was a moan.

Yuuri kept sinking down further and further, allowing himself time to adjust after every few centimeters. Victor’s hips kept up a steady rhythm, but it was never too much. The look of pure bliss on Victor’s face, blush high on his cheeks, eyes glazed and half-closed, mouth gaping, a steady stream of saliva sliding down his chin, would fuel Yuuri’s fantasies for years to come.

It was this that Yuuri was thinking about when he realized that he couldn’t sink down any further. Victor was filling him entirely, and the realization made Yuuri’s spine tingle, his entire body shuddering and his hands flying to his own hips to tangle his fingers with Victor’s.

No longer able to move with Yuuri’s weight resting firmly on his hips, Victor’s eyes lost their glossy sheen before squeezing shut as he groaned.

“Oh, Yuuri, love, please please you feel so amazing please.”

Senseless chatter kept leaving Victor. Yuuri could feel his husband’s thighs flexing underneath him in their desperate bid for movement, and sweat was beading on Victor’s forehead.

Yuuri leaned forward to kiss him.

Even as their tongues were pushing languidly against each other, even as Yuuri was circling his hips just enough to keep himself satisfied, even as Yuuri ran fingers through Victor’s sweaty hair, Victor kept whimpering. Kept pleading. And when Yuuri pulled away to get a good look at his needy husband, he was shocked to see actual tears beading in Victor’s eyes before trailing down his flushed cheeks.

Yuuri had adjusted to the feeling of Victor nearly immediately, and he didn’t dare admit that maybe he liked torturing his husband like this a little _too_ much. That discovery could be explored later, after he had talked it through with Victor and determined what was okay and what would no longer be fun for Victor himself, but tonight was meant for both of them.

And so, Yuuri would give Victor what he wanted.

He pushed up onto his knees until Victor’s cock was nearly out of him before using his powerful thighs to slowly sink back down. Control, now that Yuuri had it, was something he found to be intoxicating. The little moans of relief Victor made when he realized that Yuuri was finally, _finally_ moving soon gave way to desperate whines at the excruciating pace Yuuri had set.

“Vitya,” Yuuri breathed, mouthing at Victor’s collarbone. He kept shifting his hips, moving at different angles, wanting so badly for that one spot deep inside him to be touched.

And _oh_ , there it was. It had been only a glancing blow, the smallest brush of Victor’s cock over that little nodule, but it had Yuuri sitting upright with a gasp.

“Yuuri?”

“Ah, oh god, _right there,_ Vitya.”

“Yes,” Victor moaned, pushing his hips up to meet Yuuri’s and now that Yuuri knew the right angle, every thrust was hitting his prostate straight on and he was fairly sure that his own desperation was rivaling Victor’s.

Every thrust brought with it a burst of white-hot pleasure, Yuuri letting out gasps that grew higher and higher in pitch as his hips moved faster, as each thrust hit harder.

“Vitya, touch me,” Yuuri begged, afraid he would lose his balance if he dared move his hands from where they were clutching Victor’s shoulders. Victor was quick to oblige.

It took only one touch. One _perfect_ touch, Victor’s thumb rubbing roughly over that _one_ spot near the head of Yuuri’s cock that never failed to drive him insane at the exact same moment that Victor’s cock slammed against his prostate and Yuuri was coming with a shout.

He would’ve liked to say that he had yelled Victor’s name, confessed his love for his husband, or something equally as sappy, but the truth was that his words had been completely incomprehensible. Senseless, pleasured babbling accompanied the last few jerks of his orgasm before Yuuri sunk, boneless, to lay on Victor’s chest.

“Ah. Yuuri!” Victor sounded like he was about to cry why was Victor about to cry that was _not right_ when Yuuri felt sated and happy and warm but then something stiff moved inside of him and his eyes shot open.

“Oh, Victor, I’m so sorry!” Yuuri said, beginning to move his hips again, but he was so _tired_ , and the feeling of Victor’s cock inside of him was edging more toward pain than pleasure, but Victor _needed_ him and Yuuri felt like _he_ was going to cry.

And so Yuuri pulled Victor out of him, Victor crying out a panicked and confused “Yuuri?!”

Shushing him as calmly as he could, Yuuri instead wrapped a hand firmly around Victor, his cock still blessedly slippery from all of the lube they’d used.

“Ohhh, Yuuri, faster!” Victor begged, and Yuuri could do nothing but follow Victor’s every plea, covering his husband’s face in kisses as he stroked faster and faster, even as Yuuri’s own eyelids began drooping again, exhaustion doing its best to pull him into sleep.

But then, with a stuttered moan, Victor tensed what seemed to be every muscle in his body before coming, coating his stomach and chest. Yuuri kept stroking until Victor’s body went limp, his legs still twitching every few moments and his chest heaving with accelerated breaths.

“Yuuri. My love, that was _amazing_.”

Yuuri yawned, unable to keep his exhaustion at bay any longer.

“Well, I had hoped for a bit more enthusiasm than that,” Victor teased, threading his fingers through Yuuri’s hair and pulling him close.

“’M sorry, Vitya,” Yuuri mumbled, burying his face in the crook of Victor’s neck.

“No, none of that. No apologizing. That was perfect, and I won’t have you thinking any different.

“…It was good for you, right, Yuuri?”

“Perfect.”

“Good,” Victor said, punctuating his statement with a gentle kiss to Yuuri’s forehead. “Now, I’m going to go get a towel to clean you up. You can rest, love.”

“Love you, Vitya,” Yuuri murmured, already missing Victor even as he snuggled deeper under the blankets.

“I love you too, Yuuri.” Victor’s voice faded as Yuuri drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I kind of branded this fic as a 5+1 at first, but after some major decision making, I instead decided it works better as just a straight fic. I know that doesn't really matter and probably doesn't even make sense because there are still 6 chapters and even if it's not a 5+1 why does it matter etc etc. (Answer is it matters to me so I figure maybe there is a single person out there who it also matters to and they are the reason I am bothering to explain this.) 
> 
> ANYWAY. Main reason I wanted to mention that is because I know my notes in one of the other chapters (chap3 I think?) allude to a 7th chapter of this fic. I don't want to go back and edit that out of the note (mostly because I'm lazy, lbr), so here's my explanation as to why there are only 6 chapters and the fic is marked complete.
> 
> Basically, I fully intend to have a follow-up fic of the would've-been 7th chapter, but I'm going to post it as a standalone and just link to this rather than tacking it onto this fic, reason being that I'm still only halfway done writing that chapter and it could take literal months before I post it. I'd rather not leave a fic unfinished for that long, and it's different enough from everything that I've written here that I think it'll work decently as a standalone. 
> 
> In sum, this particular fic is officially complete, but I'm not done dabbling in the universe of this fic. (I just took a lot of words to say something very simple and pointless if you read all of this thank you you're the greatest.)
> 
> So yes, we've reached the end of this fic! It's been fun, and I look forward to writing more YoI in the future. :) Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading, commenting, and kudos-ing! It's made me anticipate posting the next chapter every week (or every two weeks, as the case was a few times) way more than I would have otherwise, and I hope everybody enjoyed the final chapter! <3


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